


ACT II

by orphan_account



Series: The Foolhardy Affair [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fainting, Fever, Flight Attendants, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poison, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 20:10:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The second part to THE FOOLHARDY AFFAIR... what's Napoleon gonna do this time???





	ACT II

**Author's Note:**

> Duuude I'm trying!! i hope people like this one!! I'm just making one whole chapter to make things easier uwu !!!

The plane was stuffy and suffocating, he didn't like all the people behind him, he'd never liked people around him, it made him feel trapped and stuck. He never liked attention, but somehow he always thrived on it . He didn't like the girl next to him, always babbling on and on about things that Napoleon didn't know, and never needed to know. He rolled his eyes, it was a long, long, /long/ plane ride, and he couldn't bear to hear one more word coming out of her mouth, in that horrible fake southern drawl. 

When the plane finally landed in Cairo, Napoleon found himself wandering around the airport, everything looked perfect, the plants, sculptures, and the memories of his thieving days raced back to him, the easiness of just swiping something that he liked. 

Cairo had always held a special place in his heart for him, it was so ancient yet it had easily been commercialised, the ancient pyramids being a key asset to it's tourism. But today, he felt rather different, he felt lightheaded and slightly dizzy. He didn't feel like walking around, turning heads, he just wanted to lie down and sleep. But obviously he couldn't do that,   
`No rest for the wicked' he angrily muttered to himself, as he went over to the bar in the far end of the airport. Walking the length of the damn airport was bad enough, but walking it when your eyes were hurting to stay open was worse, much worse.

He ordered himself a Sour Bourbon, and winced as he took a sip of it, but he had to keep up the act of Jack Devney, his alter ego and a rich, charming art dealer. Before long, a woman had started talking to him, she had long, curly blonde hair that she fashioned into a sort of a voluminous pixie cut. Her name was Edith Myers, and she sounded like a business tycoon's daughter, probably private school educated; Solo smiled to himself, this looked like it could end up being a nice, nice night. 

He noticed her baby blue eyes as she stared right back into his brown ones, what he probably didn't notice was when they shared a martini, she left some lipstick on the rim, but oh well, anyone could forget that. She kept him talking for quite a long time, Napoleon was all ready to miss his flight for this Goldilocks when his name was called out to board the flight. He sighed a little, the CIA was keeping him in check, Edith looked at him sad blue eyes as he told her to go, but he winked a little as he left her his card, 

Jack Devney   
Ancient Art dealer  
2216 London Street

She smiled and kissed him as he started to get up and leave, he grabbed his briefcase and gave a quick look at his watch, he was fifteen minutes late to the gate, Number One was definitely going to take some disciplinary action on him, as soon as he got a channel open in Bombay. 

Halfway running to the gate, he felt a sharp pain searing through his forehead and his face was flushed, it felt like someone was trying to yank his brains out. He felt sick, so horribly sick, like he was going to throw up any second now, and he wanted to pass out…  
But the gate! He couldn't give up and black out in an airport in Cairo, the CIA knew they were one up against whoever had crashed that plane, but if Napoleon was discovered they'd fall behind again. He took a deep breath and ran the next stretch to gate twenty, he quickly passed his passport through and he was finally on the plane.

"Do you know your seat number sir?" The flight attendant asked him, her mid length red hair in a bob, with a hat propped jauntily on, slightly askew. She had a fine, red silk scarf that shimmered whenever she turned towards the light. Between looking at her, and trying his best not to pass out he didn't hear what she'd said; "Sir, for the second time, do you know your seat number?" She repeated, her tone slightly impatient. But as soon as Napoleon gave his trademark charming smile, she couldn't stay angry for too long.

"Lemme check," he said, fumbling for his ticket in his pocket, when he found it, he could barely make out what it said,   
"I think it says 27B?" he questioned, and she simply smiled and pointed to her right,   
"Four rows and to your right, you've got an aisle seat sir."

He followed her instructions and there were both 27s and it looked like 27A was going to be a no show. He smiled, two whole First Class seats for himself, he could use the space to make an easier space to sleep in. This was looking great, along with the extra room, a no show meant that there would be no-one to constantly yap next to him the whole flight, he rather liked the idea. 

The pain in his head was significantly worse, it felt like something had split it open. Worse still, it was spreading all across his body, his legs felt like they were ready to give out, and he was sure that his temperature had risen well above the normal body temperature. He stumbled to the window seat thinking how he ended up like this, it was either something in his Martini or something with Edith that was sketchy, but Edith was too unassuming to do anything like this, he'd relaxed a bit too much today and perhaps now it was taking a toll on him. As he settled into a comfortable position, he felt sicker and sicker and with no partner next to him to try and slap him awake, the last thing he felt was his vision blurring and his eyelids easily drooping.


End file.
